


Djon's Story

by awessasims



Category: The Sims 2 (Video Game)
Genre: "Celebrity" Sims, Additional Characters based on The Borgias (2011), Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, Original Characters - Freeform, Sexual Content, The Sims (Video Game), The Sims 2 (Video Game) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 12:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16576205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awessasims/pseuds/awessasims
Summary: Djon is an actor who has just settled himself into a new neighborhood; here, he describes his downward spiral into alcohol and sex addiction after one particular heartbreak too many; pull up a chair and let him tell you his story...





	Djon's Story

[](https://imgur.com/oMP5l0A)

 

Hi, I'm Djon. Djon Quzik. I'm an actor and I play one in the movies. Okay, bad joke. I got a million of 'em, but I'll spare you. I was ready for a change in my life. Isn't that always how trouble starts? Well, that's how it always starts for me, anyway... 

I'm taking a break from movies right now; a break from my life. I didn't go back to the Midwest; didn't want to stay in L.A., and New York doesn't love me, anymore. Actually, my ex-girlfriend in New York doesn't love me anymore, so here I am in beautiful downtown Party Rock Falls--PRF, as it's called by the locals. 

This place is the dizzy limit: old; damaged; dangerous; surprising. A lot like me, these days. I'll explain later. Then again, if you've seen any of the WTF-variety movies I've been doing lately, I won't need to. Let's just say this decrepit little parcel of real estate suits me right now. I'm not a suburbs kinda guy—not since I was a teenager, anyway. No wife; no kids; no dog. No desire to mow the lawn every weekend and talk about the latest bullshit shortcut that shaved four minutes off of my commute with my belly-busted neighbor across the hedge; no desire to rub elbows with Warren Beauty, that pompous llama-loving ass. No, I like urban decay and the smell of despair mixing with the stale aroma of my instant coffee in the morning.

If you haven't noticed yet, I'm in just a bit of a funk. I'm also being disingenuous at the moment, because even though I'm surrounded by a vast community of tattooed and intriguingly-bearded citizens, in what must be the wife-beater capital of the world, the inner-sanctum known as my own four walls would bring the words “lap” and “luxury” to your lips if you saw it. Hey—my heart is in prison, but I'm not trying to live in one, thank you very much. I know my attitude sounds like all kinds of wrong, but I really don't mean any harm. I like it here, that's what all of this drivel means.

So, I just settled in about seven months ago, now. The first day I came to check on the place I was so stoked that I thought I'd hole up in the garage until everything was done; the roof wasn't finished and there was some problem with permits for the garage doors or some such shit, but my builder assured me that he had a fix. It was late spring and I didn't mind the thought of bunking with my new Harley for a few nights. Well, guess what? It fucking rained on me. I shit you not. So, like every bad movie I've ever been in, I was standing outside like an idiot with nowhere to go...well, there was somewhere to go it just wasn't where I wanted to be, getting drenched, and all--really pissed me off. 

Yeah, so I rode the ten minutes in to the strip, checked into a hotel and then hit up some little juke joint slash card shack. It was a nice place to unwind, take in the local wildlife. And boy, did I ever dial a brick wall. I know I got my metaphors mixed up, there, I think, but it's late, I've had a few and I don't really give a shit. I think that you can keep up with me.

The first piece of work I met was Vannozza. dei Cattanei Weyly. Usually I'm really bad with names, but that woman? Just whoa, okay? Body like a brick house; a little smirk on her face that sent shivers up my spine, and plays poker like the devil. I was trying to be cool on her because of the whole, you know, son-is-Cesare Borja, her-man-used-to-be-the-Pope-thing--but damn. We did keep it cool. We also exchanged numbers. I'm a mouth-man, by the way, and boy did her lips look like they knew a thing or two. 

Okay, moving along. I met some blonde Townie chick in a hat. For the life of me I can't remember her name...because at the Karaoke machine was a redheaded goddess named Lulu Diver. I'm pretty sure she's a porn star. No, really, I shit you not. Apparently there was a cream pie explosion at some porn mill in the valley--production has been shut down for almost a year now, that's what her brother, Muhv, told me. Anyway, a bunch of them moved here for some reason. The whole town is in an uproar, which I get, because my dick has been on high tactical alert ever since I got here. Porn stars are another breed, you know? Like space aliens--the aliens? Kinda threw my ass for a loop when I passed through Strangetown, yet _that_ is a story for another day. 

But I digress. The porn stars are so funny, walking around trying to fit in and be upstanding citizens. Well, they're upstanding, alright. Everywhere you go is a sea of hard cocks and perky, erect, delectable nipples on every type of breast imaginable; clean-shaven, perfect camel toes and Brazilian-waxed landing strips, just in your face, man, beckoning you to come fly away. Jesus. Whatever decency laws there are on the books have surely just been obliterated and abandoned. There's this one old chick, though--she's got a wicked back-handed hand bag swing, man; she's a mean old prude, let me tell you. Somebody told me her name but I've sure as hell forgotten it. But I'll know that sour mug again when I see it, believe that, as I run like hell in the opposite direction.

So, anyway--Lulu. Long, red, wavy hair; face like a Botticelli angel; she had on a see through blouse...big, juicy, red succulent nipples--pussy--right in my face--in a mini skirt that wished it was a mini skirt you could find on a rack instead of a pole. Yeah. Girl couldn't sing for toffee, but what that mouth _could_ do? Umph, umph, umph...we made out like horny teenagers right in back by the restrooms. I was cool...she was cool...we had fun. I wasn't looking for anything serious and I told her so, and she was totally down. She didn't strike me as a woman who was hard-up for dates, so I don't think she was too heartbroken about it.

Yeah, that was quite a night. I met this other bombshell at the spa later: married to some rich old coot, out looking for a little strange--hello. Lubra Dherm was her name. I hit that right in front of God and everybody, in the hot tub. Sweet. Yeah, so, later, after all the bars were closed down I hooked back up with Lulu at her place, but I got kind of weirded-out; a shoot was going down and I'm not entirely sure, now, if we were having a private moment or if my ass is coming to a PussyCat theatre near you very soon. My agent is gonna love that. Not. Stay tuned.  
So, anyway, blah, blah, blah...it's me and a bottle of Jack, tonight...the porn babes need a break and so do I, if you can believe that shit. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's six months later now and I'm shacked-up with, not one, but three hot, delectable babes: Danish beauty Zhizzup Sass, a part-time air traffic controller at PRF International; Paulinha Lovlacio, a freaky little Portuguese interpreter whose job got transferred to the Embassy here in downtown PRF; and Soh Weht, the daughter of a wealthy British chocolatier baron and his beautiful Japanese wife. I don't know how this is all going to work out, but that Sux McNutty rug that Soh brought over from her place gets a workout. Every night. 

I like them all and am having a hard time choosing one over the other, even though, I have to say, Soh seems to have found a special place in my hard heart that I just can't ignore. But, who says I have to choose just one, anyway? We're all in it for fun. I think. 

The girls all like each other. Soh apparently likes sharing her toys and, so far, everybody is playing very nicely together. For now, anyway. We'll see how that continues to work out. Sex addiction, folks; don't try this at home, is what I'm sayin'.

New York? Forgotten. But Downtown PRF still haunts me. That's my nickname for Slye. Slye Hartness. Damn. See, I thought I'd given up the booze; thought I was operating with a clear head, and all of that bullshit. Things were looking up--I was getting scripts...and actually reading them! And then I met Slye. And I thought she was "The One". And my fucking heart opened up just so that it could be ripped to shreds again. If I ever run into her again I don't know what I'll do. First time in my life I ever proposed to a woman--and then she just, like, fucking took off. I mean, we were in the restaurant; I pulled out the ring; she did the happy dance thing, said yes; I went to pay the check and when I came back she was gone, man, like the wind. Hey, it was probably for the best. Who am I trying to kid? She broke my fucking heart! Okay, gotta get off that shit. I've got three hot babes, all happy to make me happy. And they make me pretty damn happy. That's gonna have to do. _Fuck_ a heart, man.

So yeah, I've been a bad boy. In spite of what's cookin' here at home, and my fear of her son and her man, I did entertain Miss Vannozza one lovely afternoon. Since then I've gotten acquainted with her other son, Juan. Yeah, the word of the day is “eggshells”; so far, I haven't broken any, and I damn sure don't plan to, in case you're wondering.

So that's about it for me, for now. I'm back at work. Paulinha called me on set today and told me she needs to talk to me tonight--don't know what the hell that's all about, and not sure that I really want to...


End file.
